


Playing Nice

by MurderousSnakeSympathizer



Category: Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Bratting, Canon Related, Consent, Daddy Issues, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominant Kylo Ren, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Enemy Lovers, Established Relationship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Finger Fucking, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Use of Lightsabers (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, Mild Blood, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Switch Reader, Verbal Humiliation, a fear of confrontation does not exist here, back-talk, dom!reader, kylo can hear y/n's thoughts, mutual respect, sub!Kylo Ren, sub!Reader, women empowerment means something here, y/n has a temper, y/n has family trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderousSnakeSympathizer/pseuds/MurderousSnakeSympathizer
Summary: Before The Force Awakens, and before we came to know the torn man who called himself Kylo Ren, what happened? What, or who, was the one who had implanted the seed of doubt that grew throughout the series? The last thing you expected in your journey of self-recognition was to get on his radar; you just wanted power, but so does he.
Relationships: Ben Solo/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Imperial research stations and facilities didn't seem to have the best luck with reputation. Regardless of which barren planet or remote system they were stationed in, they all tended to end with some twisted series of events. Their streaks seemed to land within failed cloning experiments, oddities in genetic modifications, and a plethora of cyborg and droid mutinies. There was no break in the isolated secrecy of these stations, which was extremely contradictory given how boring and mundane they really were. If you weren’t a scientist, a researcher, or someone generally important, your job was to stand guard and sit still. To say you were disheartened when, after years of academic and combat training on Raithal, you would be stationed within one of those said boring facilities was an understatement. Granted, you had gotten lucky enough that you weren’t some nameless trooper who had to stand guard against a threat that would most definitely never come. Your placement was on the inside, dressily clad in the traditional grey, manning over machines that spit out codes across their widened screens and radars. The job assigned was constant visual protection on secret weapons that were housed all over different sections of the solar system. It wasn’t at the level of power that you had desired, but that could be changed; for now you valued the achievement in your immediate placement, regardless of how minute it was.

A good part of you knew when to speak up and out about things you tended to disagree with, as a good majority of those who'd known you slapped on the label of ‘opinionated’ and ‘outspoken’. It wasn’t that you desired to be heard more so than it was the demand of respect, refusing to give authority to those that had not earned it. Although there was a swarm of passion that festered within your soul, you had mastered the art of concealment in emotional expression. Even before willingly stepping forth to remove yourself as an imperial citizen in joining The First Order, your face was a slate, devoid of the thought process that ticked within. You had your family to thank for the suppression, as their invalidation of any type of emotion or opinion from you manifested into a personalized instruction manual to secrecy. You refused to grant anyone the satisfaction in being able to read you in any way; your emotional exposure was in your control. The talent in restraining your sensitivities became one of your strongest assets in the training to become a part of the galactic military; especially since they were all about poise and precision. Their merciless attitude was what drew you into their facility, as well as the desperate desire to remove yourself from your family.  
When in training you realized much to your own dismay that you were not good in combat since your reflexes were not fast enough to save yourself from ambush. Your fingers fumbled with your weapon and your ability to handle highly stressful physical situations was far from sufficient. The academy had checked out the possibility of you becoming one of their white clad soldiers and placed you instead within the grey and black suited operatives. Logistics and analytics were your strong point; all you needed to do was follow orders. A good majority of the time you minded your own and did what you were told; only rarely did you speak out against a command. The few times you did were just to offer advice on the handling of an issue, making sure that all angles of the situation were not neglected. You knew better than to have an attitude with those above you, mainly since those that were in charge were the ones who dictated your success. Your mouth may never have slipped with insults against your bosses, but you did allow your mind to wander with what you dared not speak. There was no fear for that. There were no repercussions since no one could hear your thoughts.  
You had already been within the research facility for nearly six years, and you were more than ready to be sectioned out. The biannual checkup was approaching in a few weeks and there was some confidence that your commitment and diligence in your professional performance would warrant a release. You would dream about being reassigned somewhere with a higher importance, somewhere that granted much more opportunity for promotion and recognition in whatever talents and skills you possessed. Your mind ached for the stimulation that it was devoid of for more than half a decade.  
  
As you allowed yourself to slip into the daydream of a reassignment, your eyes bounced between each dot within the scanning radar once, twice, thrice more as they beamed in unison. With each sweep of the indication line, the little blips ensured the regulated placement of the old weapons, still hidden within their holes. They hadn't moved for years, being kept secretly isolated since before you were born, and yet here you were looking after them like they were under a constant threat of attack. A large, calloused palm smacked down onto your shoulder and you looked upwards to see the dark, scuffed face of your superior. Al was an idiotic and brutal man, connecting pure strength with power, and over the course of your section your dislike for him grew more towards hatred and disgust. You logically couldn’t understand how he had gotten his leading position; internally, there was a forceful connection pointing to the probability of him sucking off a few shrewd cocks to achieve such a high rank of power. You gracefully maneuvered your shoulder so that his hand slid off, holding back the sneer from your lips as you moved your glare again towards the screen.

“They’re not going anywhere right now,” his hoarse voice mimicked the crackle of burning firewood, fitting well in with his large frame. He spoke your name before adding with a vindictive tone “you don’t have to keep staring at them like they’re gunna grow legs and leave”

“They could”, you mumbled, looking back at the screen, “dozens of little scummy legs”

“Those fucken roaches wouldn’t know if the big guns were right under their nose”

You let a small huff of air escape your nose, your stern expression not changing when standing from your seat and you looked towards the other screens in the small room. It wasn’t a large research facility, but you had a good sized ‘team’, ranking in all different areas which resulted in the numbers being well within double digits. You had been an odd one out, not really mingling within your comrades as you tended to divulge your attention into your work. Your goal was to leave, and in order to leave you needed to prove your worth within your actions, not on how many acquaintances you could accumulate.

“I don’t think you give them enough credit,” you said lowly, hooking your fingers around your hips.

“You defending them, then?”

“No, those 'roaches' have made it known that the resistance can be unpredictable and steal stuff right from under our own. You know their leverage is luck, and to say the weapons are safe or immune from them is ignorance. That mind set is going to get you shot for negligence”

He released a gruff noise from deep in his throat and shook his head, “they’re in some of the most remote areas in the galaxy-”

“You seem to forget that they are _also_ in some of the most remote areas of the galaxy. You let your guard down-they come, they take, and you die,” you felt your eyes nearly peeling into the textured skin on his face, “do you want to become the reason why we lose the war?”

Al’s face shook with impatience and he barked your name like an insult, “watch your tone and don’t act like you’re worth more than shit,” he pointed a fat, hairy finger at you, “who is the captain on this planet?”

The hollows of your cheeks sucked in as your tongue pressed flat against the roof of your mouth; one of your personal ticks was for people less than adequate forcing a reminder of rank. You hated being told to remember your place. To you, it was a cheapened slap against the wrist. The only time you were ever told that was when you told a truth that the other didn’t want to hear.

“All I'm saying is that things have been suspiciously dormant, and I don't trust it. I have a feeling they found out about the weapons and they’re planning something, we need to keep an eye out”

Once again, Al dismissed you as he’s done many times before, and gave you a wave of his large hand when he turned to walk out of the small circle of screens.

“Intuition doesn’t mean jack, you can’t make assumptions based on a gut feeling,” his heavy steps made the mental center vibrate and you felt your jaw snap as it physically bit back a rebuttal. “You’re looking for an excuse to make yourself more important, you’ve been sitting behind these screens for long enough. Do as you’re commanded, stay quiet”

He was gone and you tried to wave off the static that blistered across your skin, your fingers clutched the edge of your desk. He had made several comments like that each time you tried to defile his superiority or question his method of action; you should have been used to it, but each time it only layered onto the hatred for his character. Your eyes pierced the screen as it desperately looked for the flaw you sensed would come. You knew something was off, it had been off for the past month, but each time you had spoken up about it no one would listen. From a realistic standpoint, why should they, when you had no exact proof to show? Swallowing down your pride, you sat back down and rolled your chair towards the screen adjacent to the colorful beaming radar blips. Split between sections, each one showed internalized live footage of where the weapon was being held; some on moons and stars, others on planets desolate and alone. Seeing no sign of threat, as all across the table were as dead as usual, you sighed and admitted defeat for that moment. Eventually something would happen, or so you hoped.

Weeks since the last scuffle went by, leaving only 1 more until the approaching deadline for reevaluation. Small voices of doubt began to intrude your brain, creating an inclusive bubble of insecurity that plagued your subconscious. Perhaps Al was right in that the resistance were too preoccupied in finding Skywalker before The First Order did to care about dormant weaponry. You couldn’t control the way the whispers spit in the same malice-type tone your family once had, denying you any type of positivity in any of your accomplishments. You were all alone, on a sun scorched planet, with nothing else to do in your free time but build up your ego and self-importance. There was nothing special about you.  
The knotting of your brows to created a pulsating strain within your skull, and in the attempt to alleviate the strain you rubbed your eyes and rested them upon a screen. In a brief moment, you caught a small change of scenery within a frame. It was a small window of fizzing static that speckled across the view, covering what was the exterior of a hidden housing facility. Your hands immediately reached and started toggling switches, trying to eliminate the static and bring forth whatever was causing the interference. Nimble fingers danced along the illuminated buttons as your back bent with concentration, your nose inching closer towards the frenzy of black and white. You could sense from the statics refusal to leave that there was a tug on another side, a pull that wasn’t supposed to exist.  
Everything happened within a second; as you used your methods of pulling forth the cause of the cloud, there was a quick jump of a voice that breached over your own intercom. Between your quick state of shock, wondering if you had heard things correctly, a rapid succession of flashing between buzzing and scenery pulsated before it went cold. The display changed back to the white, barren exterior of the facility and everything was back to normal. This was the sign you were looking for, the pass to the ‘I told you so’ you’d finally be able to give to Al. It was the key to your replacement into something more important.  
Your palms pressed against your station as you lifted yourself up from your seat and felt your legs sweeping underneath you. Breath swelled into your lungs as you rounded corners, peaking into vacant archways until you spotted him.  
He was speaking with another crew member when you stopped right in front,

“General, the resistance has found out the weapon on Yiunov”

Al’s face dropped and he wasted no time in rushing towards the screen room, the associate he was speaking to trailing right behind. As they entered, both men scattered their visions upon all the screens and upon observing no frantic attack, Al turned towards you.

“Where are they?”

You tried to calm your heaving chest as you shook your head, “they’re not physically there, they-”

“Did you locate one of their ships observing the location?”

“No sir”

“Are they there with drones to scan for a point of entry, a weakness?”

“No Sir,”

Al huffed in annoying frustration and his voice raised in volume, “did you not just say that the resistance was there, attacking the weapon?”

“I-” you felt your expression twist, giving your head a little shake as you extended your hands outwards, “just to reiterate, and trust me when I say ‘with all due respect’, but what part of ‘not physically there’ did you not understand?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t understand, and you have a very small window to explain yourself before I have you killed for seeking attention with misinformation”

You took a deepened inhale, trying to settle your annoyance at his insufferable demeanor towards the events, “there was static, interference that came on and when I was trying to uncover what it was, then there was pullback, resistance” your teeth grinded at the pun not intended, “and when I was just about to uncover it, there was a yell over the intercom and everything went silent”

The men looked at you, to each other, then back at you and you made a mental note on how much you loathed their silent conversation. The fellow employee that was speaking with Al in the hallway briefly left the room, his arms tucked to his sides leaving you alone with your boss as he definitely sensed the blowout that was about to happen.

Al’s shaking face was a shade of deep red, and his hands doing something close to flailing where around his torso, “You called me from my conversation to tell me about some lousy interference?!” It wasn't a question and his voice was deepened and low, completely opposite of his frantic expression.

“I apologize, General, I didn’t realize we were holding important business conferences in the middle of the cafeteria hall”

His eyes became wild at your disregard, but you continued; the care for the control on your tongue nonexistent as you allowed its loll of disrespect.

“Static does not happen often, which you would know if you were in the screen room watching the screens, and-”

“They. _**Are. Machines!**_ ” Al exploded, slamming his large hand onto the station making it vibrate, “Static is what they do! They are old, stupid machines and it means nothing!”

“Static” you started again, “does not happen often”. You were enunciating the words slowly, letting your tongue click against the walls of your mouth in the hopes that the tone would somehow help clarify the importance of the situation. You also had a difficult time controlling the attitude, as you hated when people interrupted you. “There was also a yell”

“A yell? A human yell?”

“Yes”

That same red head was now knotting bewilderingly, not knowing where to place his hands as he rambled with his train of thought. You stared at him and wondered how a man who seemed to become so unhinged when there were complications in this ridiculously mundane life got to be in the position of such authoritative power. If he could climb up that stupid, shiny black and red ladder, you defiantly could.

He paused in his rampage of useless chatter and snapped in his final words, “Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

Al stayed stone cold, staring at you once again with serious eyes, “prove it, and we will notify the command ship and tell them at once,” he waited for your response for a quick second and added on, “if you can’t prove it, I will ask in your re-evaluation to be sent back to ground zero for your incompetence in following directions, and negligence to provide thorough security in overseeing the weapons of this research facility”

Your heart felt like it sank deep into your chest, your mind buzzed with pure anguish and you felt as if your body was vibrating with offence. How did this fumbling drag of a man have the authority to remove every ounce of dedication and work accumulated over a decade? How dare he even have the audacity to proclaim with such positivity in his decision. He awaited your response, now giving you ample amount of time to retract and think of your statement.

“I cannot prove it right now”

“Good. By the end of next week your disgusting little attitude will be removed from this planet,” the general made a move to exit the door, “I’ll make sure to ask for a crewman who doesn't let their inflated ego inhibit their line of professionalism, nor talk back when on the job, or ever for that matter. You’re dismissed."

Al left, and you were in a state of belligerent defense. Your face felt as though it had been kissed by needles, and your nails indented thick lines into your palms. You were sure you were vibrating now, your mind swirling with screaming tantrums and insulted self-esteem. It was almost like the feeling of a physical tantrum, but with regard for your surroundings and your position. Destruction led to nowhere, this you knew. All you could do was either await your inevitable demotion at the end of the following week, or do what you could to try and prove your ‘claims’. Although you had tried, the general had left a small window of opportunity for you as he had relieved you of many control room hours; in his rearranging of the schedules, he ensured you had as little time with the screens as possible.  
Anxiety for obtaining your proof was high, as the week had passed and tomorrow was the evaluations; you had yet to capture any type of evidence to help your claim. To say that your attitude was sour was an understatement, and it seemed like the only thing giving you any peace was the imagining of the general being sucked into the cold void of space to suffer in silence and asphyxiation. You sat in the black chair, trying not to seem too huffy and began snapping switches to calibrate the systems. Your teeth grazed the inner lining of your bottom lip in a nervous habit. You kept heavy watch on Yiunov and tried to come up with a plan to prove your innocence. You decided, even though there was a slim chance that anything would happen given the short frame of time, you pushed the button that continuously recorded the screens. After a few hours of nothing, your mind began to sink into that same brand of self-loathing, your eyes glossed and glued to the white of the frozen moon. Just as hope began to flicker, and you began the acceptance of your demoted state, there it was again.   
The static.  
  
Your entire body clenched, and you shot forward, hands flying over the buttons in an attempt to yank the source of the interference out. More tiny yelps jumped through the intercom, almost like garbled, panicked words which were cut short and your chest buzzed with excitement. There was enough repetition within the noises to realize that it was people; obvious voices that seemed to be shouting in panic between one another. The black and white screen flashed momentarily of color, one of bright greens, and although it was gone as soon as it came, you had the confidence of catching it in recording. All types of static and voices had disappeared, silence had washed across the command room and all that was left was the frozen moon. The tiniest bit of adrenaline felt coarse within your chest, and your finger hovered over the end record as your mind was swarmed with what to do next. There was only a minute of thought before finally ending the recording, automatically saving it to the internal drive before approaching the center counsel. No one here would believe you, even if you had the proof that was requested; they were all too fucking thick to consider the idea. Your current general also had too much pride to admit his defeat and entertain the idea that you had done his job better than he did. In all reality, he seemed far too eager to be rid of you, so you let the tip of your index press against a solid red circle and waited for connection.

“This is the Command center, state your purpose of contact”

“This is the research facility on L-Mat-V9, I may-” you sucked in a sharp breath, knowing that ‘may’ meant hesitation and they might not listen either. You were all in or nothing, and quickly adjusted your words, “I have proof that the resistance has found out about the weapon on Yiunov and they’re interfering with our connection. This is their second attempt at tampering with our visuals in just 2 weeks, I believe they're near the base”

There was silence for many minutes, your finger indented into the button as you waited with a bated breath; you didn’t dare move.

“We just scanned the perimeter of Yiunov and its confirmed there is a resistance shuttle just along its outer rim. Stand by for further command”

That was it. Pride swelled your lungs and you let our shoulders fall, you had proved yourself again, with just a few hours left until the end of your shift and reevaluation. A voice different from the one before broke through, its metallic tone almost gurgled by the speaker and it straightened your spine involuntarily. Your skin prickled in the realization that it deviated from the obviously human tone that first answered your call.

“Who was the officer who discovered this interference?”

You spoke your name into the metal microphone and no voice called back out. You waited for a considerable amount of time, thinking how rude it was that there was no sign off before allowing your finger to finally leave the button. You finished your shift without a single word towards Al, nor other employees. You just bore a small self-relying smile in the newfound confidence of your position. The next day was spent in preparation for the arrival of an Imperial Fleet. The ‘big bosses’ would be coming down to speak with the generals and captains and gather up all physical intel about crew the crew. The ship arrived and down came the black figures, their arms wrapped behind their backs with the same uninterested higher-than-thou attitude scribbled along their wrinkled faces. You grimace at their state, wondering if it was because they were on the ‘bad side’, according to the rest of the universe, that made them look so grim. It took a while before they got to you, and when asked for your name, you spoke it and their expression changed to one of Intrigue.

“You are the one who discovered the rebel ship near Yiunov”

“Yes sir”

A slight hum came from the old man’s throat before he spoke again, “Because of your perception we were able to explode the ship and capture those who had escaped onto the moon, the weapon remains untouched and is being moved into a new area”

Your face did nothing to release the giddiness that accumulated inside your body, your eyes stained emotionless and you didn’t even give so much as a nod of your head. It was too much movement to risk the interruption of such praise.

“We received the transmission you saved from the technical interference; your diligence has granted you the position as a scanner aboard the Finalizer. Report back with your belongings at once for immediate transfer"

His words were quick and his statement was made, he left you in your spot and you could do nothing but stare forwards. You tightened your fingers around each other as they rested on the small of your back, your chest inflating from satisfied breaths. Your eyes scanned to the left and met with a, once again, red-faced Al, knowing that he had no say in the decision that had just been made. You allowed the corners of your mouth to tilt upwards as your brows laid heavily down, creating a condescending expression that seemed to only infuriate him more. You didn’t need to verbally say ‘I told you so’, you knew your facial expression was more than enough and you turned off towards your quarters to gather your things. You had worked your way up to being aboard the most important ship, alongside the most important people, and undoubtedly would be tasked with the most important information. In the collection of your belongings, you thought back to how they received the transmission so immediately and were reminded on information that was given when you had first arrived many years ago; 'all events that are recorded, once ended, are promptly transferred via satellite to be evaluated and overanalyzed as soon as possible'. There had been a warning to only save something if it was extremely important, as things that were wasted efforts would have drastic repercussions. You thanked your intuition, as that decision was was the one to get you commended or killed.  
The next thing you knew, you were on a ship grazing by speckled stars in space towards your new position aboard the Imperial Ship.


	2. Chapter 2

The beginning of your first day was mentally intimidating, but truth be told you had far too much confidence from your previous success for it to inhibit your performance. You were shown the new command room, introduced to your fellow crew members and left in the guidance of a head administrator to learn the rest. You took note that the area, much like the rest of the entire ship, was swallowed in black. The oddly shaped windows that enveloped the top portion of the perimeter did little to help illuminate the area, only adding to the aesthetics of deep space. Everything within the center was geometric in design, no sharpened corners and no flowing shapes; it was symmetrically in control, a perfect order. There was a long shiny walkway where those of ‘importance’ got to stand and quite literally look down upon the miscellaneous help stationed on either side of the path. This walkway had to be an entire floor above you as even when you stood erect you were not even eye level with the bridge. It was an efficiently silent way to remind those about positions in power.  
Your job as a scanning operative was not too far from your previous assignment, as you still had to examine some screens and check radars. The main difference was now your examinations were on data that came forth from the machines, as well as inspections of the interiors of battleships and cruisers. You were there before the engineers and after, investigating the damage, if there was any, and making sure everything was complete for use; making assignments much more physical and interactive. Your team was once again small, this time less than a handful of fellow scanning crew, but within the command center you were surrounded by an assortment of varying technicians.  
When on commute from L-Mat-V9, your eyes had blown wide once the entirety of the Starkiller Base came into view from your small window. Although you would primarily be working aboard the Finalizer, you marveled in the mass of such a weapon. The spaceship itself was massive as well, almost excessively so, but you agreed mentally that if you were in a position of galactic domination like the galactic military was, you’d dabble a bit in hierarchy of size and grandeur too. 

Your first actual conversation with another being that didn’t involve instruction came when eating on the first break of your shift. You were approached by a man in out-of-work uniform, his shortened light brown hair ruffled and a nimble smile across his thin lips. He placed down his own tray and took the vacant seat across from you, your eyes wandered up and you allowed your fork to weaver before letting the substance pass. He spoke immediately, 

“You’re the new recruit that got flown in from V9, right?” 

He spoke your name and you nodded your head, giving an affirmative hum as you chewed.

“GR-407, I was stationed on guard outside the command center when they brought you in” 

Your brain let out a sigh at the random web of coding the war gave as forms of identification to their soldiers. Although you had been into this whole system for years it always struck a nerve in how they resorted their defense system to a random generation of digits. 

“Do you go by GR-407 or did you create a name based on the numbers they gave you?” You asked him, letting your fork dig under some more slosh and preparing to lift it towards your mouth. You had heard that some soldiers had dabbled in their own titles, but you had never spoken more than a few words to one to figure out how many actually went along with it. You couldn’t decide if it was the vocalizer in their white clunky helmets that gave them such nasty attitudes, or if it was just their own personal tone, but nonetheless you tended to avoid lengthy conversations with Stormtroopers.

“I go by the code; I haven’t really given it much thought since I’m not very creative. Honestly though, I'm not too friendly with others in caring what name they call me” 

You cracked a small, closed lipped smile at his statement, knowing all too well how hard it was to be ‘chummy’ with anyone associated with the imperial side of the war. Your lids lowered to your plate as you watched your fork. He didn’t seem to have that same demeanor other troopers tended to have, so why not try and play nice?

“You want me to try and take a crack at making something legible from your numbers?” 

He sucked on his teeth with his tongue, giving a shrug and gestured an open palm towards you, “by all means” 

“Well GR can be the beginning; you already have a good foundation. Four’s can look like A's, and sevens can be T’s,” 

“And the 0?” He asked, now using his own utensil to push around the food on his tray. 

“Silent letter can be replaced with anything, or it can stay as an ‘o’. So, GR, A and T... you can either have G-R-A-N-T, or G-R-A-O-T. Your pick” 

You watched as his face contorted slightly, mouthing the word ‘Graot’ before waving it off with nod. He tapped his fork on the edge of the tray, looking back upwards towards you, “honestly never saw myself as a Grant”

“I never saw myself as a master name generator, yet here I stand”

You looked at his face, taking in details of the freckles across his nose, his lightened eyes and a soft expression, minus a little wrinkle just between his brushed brows. You wondered if his continuous state of furrow was from being in constant battle; that dense line embedded so deeply into such a young face was a shame. He looked not a few years older than you were, yet was refined and dignified from battle. After a considerable amount of silence, the solider struck up another line of conversation,

“How do you feel about your promotion from the research facility?”

You let your elbows rest on the table, letting your own brows furrow in thought. No one was supposed to know it was a research facility, as to protect the anonymity of the weapons; to the public knowledge it was a regular cargo station.  
  


“How do you know I was promoted from a facility?” 

Grant sucked in a bated breath, “Your act on being able to extract the source of the interference from just static alone was something pretty impressive, there was a good amount of talk from the center” he rapped his fingertips along the tabletop. “I heard that not many officers stationed there would be able to do something like that, especially being able to yank the tether so hard you unearthed a little flash of their base. You put up an insane fight” 

The praise left your head spinning on an almost euphoric high as your mind snapped immediately back; it was then when you'd realized the snippets of greenery that had flashed on screen just before the connection was cut was their base. Along with the little snippets of their screams, it made sense that you had been able to capture visual of their side; your technique in coding had been sufficient enough. You decided to seal away the swelling of satisfaction and save it for later, clearing instead your throat and turning your full attention back towards ‘Grant’. 

“To answer your question, I’m honored. I’ve been working towards a jump in positions like this for years, it’s a relief to get away from that planet”

“I heard it was hot” 

“You have _no_ idea. My body has acclimated to that type of environment, and I won't be surprised if it goes into a state of shock from space’s cold contrast,” without too much thought, you bared a gentle smile, the muscles around your cheeks and ears tightening as you were sure they had forgotten what the expression had felt like. The conversation wasn’t dull, a more than welcome shift from your two-year isolation on V9. 

“So,” Grant's voice wavered just a bit from the sight of your smile and he busied his hands with an empty paper cup, “Rumor has it that the commander is back from a mission early and might make an appearance in the command center today”

“Which one?” 

You started collecting the empty trays atop the table and stacking them within themselves, using the extra napkins to pick up any stray food. 

“The main one-big boss, Kylo Ren” 

In a slight and respective shock, your eyes widened and you felt your lips purse forward; you stopped your task. You had heard of the all mighty Ren, but never had you seen him in person. The stories that included his name usually added to his reputation; he was a fear mongering monster. Cold and rude as he was known to be, the circulating intimidation did little to cloud your judgement and make you entirely afraid. If he was that scary in person, then you’d keep your distance, but a world of words tended to exaggerate information as it was being told.

“He’s apparently been away, searching for something. I’m not quite sure, they tend to keep details to a minimum for us when things are still so new”

“Should I drop to my knees and cower under my arms in reflex of his arrival?” you mused, letting your expression relax from its usual stone. 

That prompted a nervous chuckle, as well as another studious head shake, “you just might involuntarily do that when he comes charging towards you like you owe him credits. I’m just trying to give you fair warning, intimidation is his play”. 

“Well then if that's the case, I will do what I know best-mind my own business and let him be on his way” 

“Careful to mind your business in your head too” 

You studied the soldier's face and let your nose scrunch, “what?” 

He leaned forward on his forearms, letting his left-hand curl into a loose fist as he lowered his voice into a gentle whisper, "he can read people’s thoughts” 

“No one can read thoughts”’

“He can” 

“How?” 

“The force” 

“... that’s not how the force works”

This time it was Grant's turn to let out a snort and he leaned back into his chair “you force sensitive?” he asked, letting his hands relax and his palm point loosely towards you

Your answer was a curt “no” and he let his fingers turn upwards in that matter of fact wave, that playful grin still on his lips, before stating “then how the fuck do you know that’s not how the force works?”

Brows where raised in the astonishment of his forwardness and you marbled in a short instance of disbelief. Before you could control it, you felt your lips stretch into a toothy grin and, with a slight snicker you angled your head slightly upwards from his jest. He had gotten you there, you had no way to dispute. 

“You’re right, I don’t know. From what I've heard, it’s making things float and thought manipulation, choking people without needing to touch their neck and all of the other stupid mysticisms,-but it giving the ability to read a mind?” Your fingers waved in front of your face, mimicking the movement made by previous Jedi, “doubt”

“All I know is that poor Jerry from east wing just about shit himself when he was confronted by Kylo Ren. Dude cut the corner and started repeating all the nasty stuff he was thinking, made his blood go cold”

His eyes were cautiously serious and you wondered if he heard the story from someone who heard from another, who then elaborated on the act, or if ‘poor Jerry from East wing’ had told Grant himself. You personally shuddered at the idea of someone probing your mind; your inner monologue was borderline thoughtcrime against so many figures of power in The First Order. You prayed to any maker Grant’s whole warning was a farce.   
You stood then from your seat, your fingers wrapping around the trays and made way towards placing them in the cleaning line. 

“Well, I appreciate your warning and I’ll make sure to keep my dirty thoughts to a minimum. I don’t want to get into anything while I'm here,” you cooed, letting the plastic clack against each other before they slipped down the shoot. Grant was beside you; he was your exact height and met your eyes as you asked, “I’ll see you later, or your shifts ended for today?” 

He shook his head, “I’m done. But we’re put on the same time tomorrow. I’ll see you then, yeah?” 

You gave a nod in response and let your hand lift a bit in a little wave before turning the corner opposite of his direction, making your way back to begin your next shift. Flashing your badge of entry, you took your seat in the back that faced the walkway and focused your attention on your task. You thought of your ease in talking to the stormtrooper and how he had brought out the genuine banter that you'd forgot had resided within your persona. It was like he unlocked that bit that you had buried under your crude ambition. It was nice to speak to someone without malice in their tone, or with authority masking as respect. You gave yourself props, you were still able to behave.   
  
Since you were not too well acquainted with the supremely advanced technology, a more knowledgeable crew member was assigned to instruct and oversee. Reene was older, with crow’s feet at the outer edges of her eyes and her darkened hair slicked into a tight bun behind her head, just beneath her hat. She was professional, and it was obvious on how much experience she'd had with how patient she was in instruction. You liked how she seemed to talk toyou, not atyou.   
Well into your shift, when your mind was engulfed in something Reene was saying, the entry doors to the center flew open and a long man hurried in; his steps were quick and light. His face was scrunched and pinched into a sour expression, his reddened hair added onto the flaming demeanor. He looked far from friendly; his entire energy radiating at a close and his feverous steps only emphasized his crude demeanor.

“And thus, the sign that the commander has returned,” Reene mumbled to herself after only taking a glance upwards.  
  
You looked to her to elaborate but before either of you could speak, he began barking orders down into the pits where your fellow technicians resided. His way of issuing out instruction was as harsh as Al’s was back on V9, triggering an immediate defense against his tone. His lips twisted with the faint insults against the workers; he wasn’t being as mean as he was rude. Although he hadn't directed a single comment towards you or your stationed crew, the way he spoke to the others ignited the small temper inside. He didn’t seem as brutish as Al was, but he did seem just as condescending. Your mind was quick to judge in that you did _not_ like whoever the fuck that guy was. 

The attempts to add more onto your internal comment against the man, your body went rigid and the tips of your fingers felt cold. It felt as though the air that you had previously inhaled froze within your throat and clenched the muscles into an exaggerated tension. The only comfort you felt was in the prickled hair at the nape of your neck, as it gave validation that you weren’t imagining whatever the feeling was; something was coming. You turned your face towards the closed off entrance, and it was like you could feel each stride that was taken by the incoming threat as the air tightened with alarm. Just as a slight ringing began to thrum in your ears, the doors slid open and an enlarged black mass swept through. It’s cloak periodically kissed the floor every in each massive stride; arms stiffly swayed with flexed fists as it followed the same, straight route the ginger man had when he'd entered.   
So that was Kylo Ren.  
You took in his form as he stomped, and in examining him in his entirety you felt a small spume of conflict. In the quick moment it took for you to internally analyze his physic, that emotion manifested instead as a suppressed disappointment. With all the stories that had attached themselves onto his reputation, you expected his being to be more….. horrifying. He didn't look scary at all.  
  
The comfort in the careless springing of your mental dialogue was interrupted immediately as his figure stopped its stride; the metal twists surrounding the visor lowered until they were directed down at you. Even with the jolt that electrified into your chest, your stoic expression hadn't shifted as you stared straight upwards to meet the gaze. You couldn’t see an ounce of humanity through the visor, but you knew eyes were locked and, thus came forward the intimidation that you had lacked seconds before. Grant was right.   
The standoff lasted not even a minute when his mass started his pace up again and passed you, his head rolling back upwards. He then spoke; his garbled mechanic voice snipping through the silence in the room.   
  


“Supreme Leader Snoke's orders were clear in the intention of my mission”

You felt that same involuntary straitening of your spine that you felt two days prior, when that booming voice had asked for your name over the intercom. You realized now that it was Ren who had spoken directly at you. He had seen your abilities and for one moment it intoxicated your pride; someone in such a high position of power was a witness to your conquest.  
  
“And if the intentions were so clear, and instructions so understood, then why were you incapable of retrieving any valuable information?”   
  
Your eyes flicked back towards your screen as the first man who stepped aboard the command center retaliated, bitterness prominent.   
  
“Enough information was retrieved to let us move into the next phase,” Kylo was right beside him and his voice vibrated with condescending conceit, “unless you doubt your own capabilities, I see no reason to prompt another search in that area, its wasted time”   
  
You dared not look up, knowing your place in the system and busied your hands with your work. Reene stopped speaking, all for good reason, and she stayed by your side. She seemed ordinarily calm for the bickering that was happening above, and you wondered if this happened often. You figured as much, inferring from her earlier comment that, much like a disgruntled husband would act when reuniting with a hated wife, this was a common occurrence.

“My personal capabilities have nothing to do with understanding the information you’ve found, your capabilities, on the other hand, were unsatisfactory in-”

“Make well with the words you chose to say General, your questioning and insults to me are a direct disrespect against the Supreme Leader. I don't think he’d like that very much, do you?”

Although you had literally no context to what they were speaking about, you bit down into your cheek to stop the contempt expression that threatened to hook outwards. Kylo could be as bad as this General in disrespect, but in the moment you reveled in someone being put in their place.  
The last comment the commander made seemed to hit the nail in the head as the General stayed quiet, and you heard those same heavy footsteps lead down the bridge. You kept your head low for a few moments, even after you heard the doors hiss close, and finally the numbness inside your fingers resided, and your mind felt cleared from that odd, sticky buzzing. You rolled your shoulders and pondered on why Kylo’s presence seemed to have such an odd effect. You tallied it up to nerves and tried to think nothing more of it as Reene continued her teachings now that silence echoed through the command center.   
  
After the end of your shift and a professional thanks towards your mentor, you headed back to your quarters. In the midst of peeling away your uniform, now updated to a sharp black instead of the dreadful Grey, you stepped into the shower and allowed your mind to bounce with self-conversation.   
Why did your body react the way it had when Kylo Ren stepped into the bridge? And why did you start feeling signs of it even before he stepped through the door?   
Why weren't you afraid of him, even with all of his intimidating qualities, what was with his mask, and had he had a personal say in your promotion from the research facility? Had he been impressed with your decoding, or anyone else for that matter?  
  
You stepped away from your shower, contempt in it being quick and managed to snuff out your entire bedtime routine before grabbing your data pad and letting your body fall into the blankets. Along the middle of the screen read your duties for tomorrow, your first being to investigate and inspect the interior of the commander's ship. You let yourself giddy over the prospect that you would be doing your first shuttle evaluation and basked in the newness of the position. With the hum of excitement, you eventually trickled off into sleep, ready for the assignments that awaited your counsel.


	3. Chapter 3

You shivered as you entered the hanger, your fingers clutching your data pad as you struggled against the iced air; your long black sleeves did nearly nothing to stop the temperature from piercing through. You were right when you had told Grant about your body going into a shock from the temperature transition. Your skin had prickled with another involuntary shiver and you cursed slightly under your breath, everywhere here was so fucking cold. The command ship was parked in one of the smaller, more personalized hangers, tucked away into its own niche so it could be worked on individually. You stepped inside and looked down at the pad, giving a cursory check in ensuring that you had arrived on time. Although there was no one else there, you gave yourself a mental pat for diligence. Once you turned to face the ship, you allowed your eyes to follow the outer edges of its enlarged wings that extended upwards, tracing the sharp rectangular corners of the tips and back down to its base. Your feet stepped forward and you laced the pad of your finger along the necks of the blasters that sat its lower lower portion; everything about the design was menacingly precise. It did well in mirroring its surroundings of the Finalizer in its neatened geometric form, and it mirrored the domineering appearance of its domineering owner. 

You stepped through the entry doors and stopped cold as you surveyed the destruction. Across the interior were deep gashes that let spill wires like entrails, gutted from its internal rooting and scattered across the floor. The wounds looked like they had been seared through with multiple elongated swipes, slashed in a frenzy, and it left your mind to conjure up which type of blaster could ever inflict such a pattern of destruction. The air was wafted with singed machinery and melted metal; it was like pure copper lined the back of your throat, stinging up and through your nose. You let it scrunch with distaste. 

Moving slowly now, as you marveled in the inspection, you closed the distance with one of the walls and began inputting your diagnostics into the pad. You felt a twinge of sympathy for whatever engineer was tasked in the cleanup of the massacre; but, if this was a commonplace event, you'd guessed they had enough experience and would do little to complain. In the detailing report of the damage, your eyes crept up the warped wall and a faint realization came when you'd placed a closer examination on the cuts; they were all made by a singular laser, and not the parade of fire that was previously presumed. The destruction of the deck was from a lightsaber. There wasn't a thing you could imagine that would dignify a flare of temper this extreme; this was an excessive outrage, in your own opinion. After your initial diagnosis, you weren't given another chance at the mental brigade against the commanders reckoning as the sensation of the incoming of another presence wafted over the main deck. Static had carried you out from your initial thought process, your mind now felt as wired and exposed as the interior of the ship, and you tried to make sense of the internal alarms that had begun to strum. Your fingers tightened against the pad, numbing while your body locked in response. It was back; the feeling and sensation, the same overwhelming suffocation surrounding the air that had engulfed the center. Your heart picked up speed.  
Then, you heard it, the hiss of the doors allowing entry to the thick stomping of those same heavy boots. You turned to face the black mass that stopped at the entrance of the capital and you felt your eyes lock with those behind the visor. Your expression once again did not motion to change, and in trying to create a fathomable explanation as to why he was there, especially when he did nothing to initiate conversation, you spoke first. 

“Can I help you with anything, commander?” 

“See to it that my ship is in working condition immediately”

The copper bile from the back of your throat now sat on the base of your tongue. Your mind fumbled; was that all he wanted to say?  
Was the point of his appearance to, quite literally, tell you to do exactly what was already in the process of being done? You couldn’t help but simmer in his ignorance as you suspected he was exactly the same type of authoritarian persona that all your other superiors were. This was just a display of dominance.

“Would you like for me to personally oversee the engineers when they arrive so they begin alterations immediately?” 

“There's no need, they know what they have to do”

Your own temper was now being challenged as the aggravation for being interrupted from your duties began to flare; you made well in not displaying the irritation, but you could feel your chest begin to simmer. You set about guessing, not so wisely, on how long your all mighty superior would have you standing at attention.  
Was this a farce, or maybe a reminder of authority? If that was the case, you personally saw no reason for him to exploit this you, albeit in the most awkward way. You gave a quick glance over to your memories, trying to connect the dots to this seemingly random intrusion. Then, the sifting stopped at first impression his figure had given you the day prior.  
Disappointment.  
So he did hear you.

“Do you not find me intimidating?” 

His tone echoed with a disdained lull, almost like he was physically poking fun at your opinion. Your shock did nothing to detour his probing, seeming only in enticing him to speak more slowly, almost so that the vibrations of his mask reverberated towards you. You swore you could feel them snake their way under your sleeves and pulsate atop your own skin. 

You answered back clearly, and since your mouth favored satisfaction over safety, you could not help the slight mimic from the timber of his voice into your own, “Yes sir, very” 

“Are you mocking me?” 

His robotic drawl dripped through the mask like a threat. He wasn't offended, but he wanted to cause unease. The words triggered an explosion across your neck and down your spine. Kylo took a step towards you but you did well not to flinch, unwilling to relent to the peacocking of power you were so convinced was at play. Your expression was untouched, but inside you whirred with caution; there was no trust for him. 

“No sir” 

He let out a rumbled hum, favoring again that tone of patronization, “Your mouth and your mind have a tendency to contradict each other, is this a common occurrence?” 

Ren motioned towards you, almost like a lean, halving the space between you and the entrance of the shuttle. It left your position on the far back wall, just at the opening of the cockpit, feeling small. He took your silence as an affirmation and answered for you,

“So, yes” 

You felt a thick wad build within your mouth as a twinge of panic began to manifest at his incoming form. You did not like that he was narrowing you into a corner.

“I’d tell you to remember your place but, seeing from your past, that does nothing but trigger disrespect” 

“I impose the same level of respect I am given, sir” 

“There is no such thing as disrespect when it comes from your superior” he was just a few steps in front of you now and your head had to significantly tilt upwards to continue that stare, “You are in no position to demand for such equality, your rank is your value”

The way he had snapped at you, venom blended with the most evenness in tone, had manifested inside the purest form of hatred for the way he spoke. So matter-of-fact and unwilling to debate. His comment had let loose a stubborn knot that exploded from your core, rushing in a river not unlike magma down a hill. You were both at a crossroads, neither of you willing to budge from this odd flare of dominance. 

Respect was not given, it was earned, and you cared not who he was nor how powerful he could become; he needed to work for it just the same. 

His pace quickly closed that little distance left between the two of you and he slammed his fist into the already wounded wall beside your head; the weakened metal collapsing more under the violence. Your body flushed with the shuttle in a sorry attempt to escape him, and your head leaning upwards to continue its glower at the mask. Everything within you was rigid, shoulders taut with tension and your jaw painfully clenched; you had felt the lids of your eyes flutter from the loud collision between leather and ship. You were sure that your hands were shaking from your own seething temper, as there was nothing you could do to defend yourself from his antics. Your stare continued to drill through the black visor that shielded a face so near your own, and in the stillness you swore you could see the same expression piercing back into you.   
You were so adamant in proving that you would not quiver before the oh-so-mighty Kylo Ren. In the deadened quiet, you could hear the air tube technology that helped ventilate the mask whirring with the continuous circulation of oxygen.

“I suggest you keep your disrespectful thoughts to a minimum and remember who you’re working for” 

He didn’t linger long after he spoke, removing his fist from the indented wall and storming almost immediately out of the hangar. You felt the insides of your body and mind aflame in an exasperation. You had left one entitled brute on a planet to switch it for another aboard a ship. The audacity of him to command the concealment of your own thoughts only triggered more outrage. Your mind was the one thing The First Order would not control; you were here of your own decision-of your own accord. That freedom would not be stripped from you.   
The inside of your head was shifted, like it had been mildly probed from his observations, leaving you with a feeling of violation. You looked to the area of your surroundings, itching for a means of destruction to grant release from the provocation; that hatred of the removal your own authority violent, that act alone surpassed disrespect.   
  
His odd outburst, that you assumed was a ploy to terrorize, did nothing in harboring any fear into your opinion of him. Only absolute aggression.  
He was just like the rest of your higher authorities, labeling you with inferiority and treating you with impertinence. You wondered if they all went to school to learn on how to become absolute fuckheads.  
You inputted the new dent into the pad and finalized your overview; you would be back after the engineers finished with their cleanup to check off the safety of the ship before it would fly out. You hoped that Ren was far from the shuttle when that time came.

  
  
There hadn't been a moment for you to recover from the incident, so when your break came it was warmly welcomed and you had decided to find comfort in food, knowing that it would be better than sitting idle and reminiscing on events. Just as you began to eat, two stormtroopers entered through the door and idly chatted within themselves as they got their own serving from the line. They eventually separated from each other, one choosing to sit towards the front as they joined a few others that arrived minutes before, and the other made its way towards your little nook.  
Your eyes raked over the white armor as it clunked forward, adding so much bulk to the thin body that inhabited underneath. Your mind wandered to the thousands of beings that were unlucky enough to have that image be their last, before their lives were brought to an abrupt end.  
The soldier set their tray down and their hands immediately hooked under their helmet, causing it to hiss from its detachment and Grant scooted into the metal chair in front of you. His helmet landed with a thick thunk against the tabletop and you watched as the excessive noise died when he finally decided himself comfortable enough to stop moving. 

“Hi” 

He gave you a large, toothy grin which in turn caused one of your own to spread on across your face. His positivity was infectious, and you hooked your tongue into the right side of your teeth before responding in your own, 

“Hello”  
  
He tilted his chin towards you, leaning forward in his chair as he picked up his spoon, “how's your official second day gone so far?” 

You gave a little shake of your head, pointing to him with an extended index, “you first” 

“Well,” he shrugged as his eyes looked upwards, almost like trying to retract all the exciting events that have happened within the past few hours, “since its my official one thousand four hundred and sixty third day, I stood in front of a door and held a blaster. And, -wait,” in sucking in a sharp breath, his eyes flicked back down to meet yours. "Yeah, that's about it” 

You made a clicked noise and felt your shoulders shrug, “I don’t know sounds like a pretty good day to me” 

“Does that now? I guess it’s the same as standing idol within a facility, unless something already crazy happened to you that makes my day seem so relaxing” 

Grant lifted food into his mouth and he spoke through his chews, covering his lips with the side of his gloved hand; you found that small gesture almost endearing. He narrowed his eyes in questioning when you hadn't answered, and in swallowing, he mumbled a cautious “what?”  
  
“I saw Kylo Ren” 

“And?” He took another bite and watched you closely, “what happened?” 

“He read my mind”

"And?"

"And what?"

"What'd you do?"

"I shit myself"  
  
He stopped chewing, his light eyes wide and his spoon hovering in the air, “did you really?” 

“No, man," you sniggered and farced in throwing a cube of food towards him. 

“Well hold on, don't take it so personal!” he held up his hands in defense before wiping the area where the small scrap would have made contact, “don’t bring the battle to the ship-I still don’t know which part you’re lying about” 

You smiled and continued eating your own food, knowing your time needed to be split between conversation and achieving the goal you had set in using a meal as comfort.  
  
“Seriously, what happened? Did you get to see him?” 

“I did, but as for ‘what happened’, it was more than.... strange. He just came onto the ship when I was working, which was a _mess_ by the way-” 

Grant's head nodded and he hummed “all things broken and slashed, right?”

“Right”

“He does do that from time to time” 

“And he was just being really weird-and unnecessarily rude. He read my mind, but it was almost like he didn’t have to try, it felt so invasive. I was just saying so much-” 

“You were shit talking?”

“ _Yeah_. Like I couldn’t stop insulting him in my head, like my brain was _trying_ to antagonize him, but his presence just made me so-” 

“Angry” 

You looked at Grant while pointing the prongs of your fork in his direction, “stop interrupting me”. He chuckled, saying a faint ‘sorry’, and busied his mouth with his meal. Not even trying to recollect back to what you were saying, you let out a sigh as an indication that you were now done with your rant and scraped the bottom of your plate. 

“He is scary though, isn’t he? Especially up so close?” 

You shook your head, mind flashing to his mask inches away from your face. It was your turn now to speak with your mouth full,

“He doesn't scare me” 

“He should,” he wiped his lips with the white napkin and crumbled it into a ball, “he scares the shit out of me” 

“That's because you and Jerry from East Wing are babies, one in the same”  
  
Surprise scribbled onto Grant's face, his expression accepting the challenge and letting out a loud 'ohoo' before slamming his palms down onto the metal. His reaction caused you to chuckle slightly while you gathered his empty tray onto yours. 

“And tell me, from those who are sitting at this table, who gets to go out into battle?” 

Your eyes mused at him, “battling in war does not cancel out cowardice” 

“Does to me. You ever had a blaster pointed right at your face?”

“Yeah, and I stuck it in my mouth and yelled at them to pull the trigger”

“You did not”

There was a twinkle in his eyes and you tore the contact, giving a smug little shrug to instead leave the words for the air to digest.

“I just don’t know how you can be scared of someone you can't understand. That mask makes everything so garbled. I heard that with Vader, there was at least clear pronunciation-”

“I think you need to watch what you say and how loud you say it,” Grant spoke your name, “your whole act of bravery isn’t going to last with him. Give it time, it’ll hit”

Your fingers wrapped around the edges of the stacked trays while you lifted yourself up from your seat, your body turning to take you towards the trash shoot. You let the items slip down and you turned to face the young soldier, watching as he lowered the helmet onto his head until there was that audible, sharp snap of it sealing into place. 

“Until that time hits, I don’t know what to tell you,” you both walked through the doors and down the long-illuminated halls towards the command center. 

“Just make your mind empty, like it's blank and you have no thoughts. That way, you can’t get in trouble”

There was an internal scoff, he had absolutely no idea what little control you had on the powerhouse that was the internal dialogue; especially when it was being provoked. You had little idea on how you’d ever be able to shut it down.

“You know, not to sound too familiar, but I don’t like the way you sound with that helmet on"

“What? Don’t like that I sound more important than you?” 

You smacked your knuckles sharply onto its side, making his body shift away as he mumbled out curses from the attack; you both tittered with subtle laughter as you walked. The closer both of you got to the center though, the less either of you conversed, eventually reaching the entrance in total silence with your professional demeanors back in place. He relieved the soldier on duty, taking his position to the left of the doors and you paced inside, taking your own in the pit of the bridge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been writing this since Apirl of 2020, but only now have I decided to finally start posting a few chapters. I apologize if uploads aren't very consistent, as it's still in the works. But I just want to let you know that this is going to be one LONG ass fic, so I hope you enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks had gone by in a blissful quiet since the incident on Kylo Ren's ship. The last you saw of him was when you returned to initiate the seal of approval from the engineers repairs. To your demise, he had arrived when you did, stalking in silently and you found the whole act, once again, exceedingly strange. He said nothing to you, just watched while you did your check in, and after some odd minutes you were able to direct all attention into your work. After his departure, you didn’t see him for almost a month and your wall against him temporarily leveled down. Grant helped in giving a release from the tension Kylo had triggered within, offering instead engaging conversations and infectious smiles during the breaks the both of you shared.  
You had honestly forgotten what a real friendship was like.  
He had been the first person to open you up since the years before your attendance at the academy. You valued his companionship, and although you wouldn’t admit to it, there was a hope for your bond to grow. It was a small desire to have the type of friendship where he would never take a negative leave of absence from your life in any way. 

The shift this day had played just like the others before, atypical and unanimous, with your assignment briefings as simplistic as they had been since your stationing. You took notice that Reene hovered over you less, only speaking to you when she was communicating the readings from her own machine and it added significantly to your self-esteem; you took her distancing as trust and confidence in leaving you alone in your work. Your day had almost been over, leaving only the need to run diagnostics over some TIE Fighter’s when you had gotten word that the commander was back aboard the Finalizer. You tried not to make a mental scene and just adamantly prayed he was nowhere near the center when you needed to report back with your diagnostics.  
On your way to the bridge, your steps brisk, you overheard a conversation between two grey-suited officers leading down the opposite direction. 

“It was another fail, they got nothing”

“How could he be gone for nearly a month and get nothing?” 

“I don't know, but he’s not in a good mood”

“This is what? The third time they’d tried, and still no success?” 

“Maker save the souls that work in the center” 

A large lump wavered in your tightened throat.  
Your steps staggered while you hesitated now with the idea of turning over the diagnostics so promptly. You toyed in re-checking another TIE fighter, performing some quick internal scans to allow time to play its course; it was once way to safely ensure that no ensnarement with your commanding officer would make its debut.  
As soon as the idea began to manifest into action, you physically shook your head and erased the shroud of reluctance; if he _was_ there, you would pay him no mind and focus your attention towards your work like you did before. All you needed to do was enter, submit, and leave. You were not about to add hours of overtime to your ticket when there was a chance he wouldn’t be in the center at all; you refused to conform.  
While in your walk, you thought back onto the conversation between the two men, and tried to understand exactly what Ren kept failing at. You knew what The First Order was trying to accomplish, but it seemed their attempts to find Skywalker kept being thwarted. Your memory waved back to the first encounter between the Commander and the General, and the frustration between the two in the search. With this in mind, it almost ensured that temperaments would not have be anywhere near subtle and carefree; they were both most likely angrier than before. 

In nearing the entrance, you took note of the dizzying strangulation that electrified the energy outside of the center. Everywhere, from the palms of your hands to the pads of your feet, prickled in suspension, and you felt your spine swell from the chill. Static sifted underneath your internal layers, almost to the point where you could feel your cells pulsate as they swam. One of the stormtroopers on guard nodded their helmet, shaking in a silent plea for you to turn away, and automatically you knew it was Grant giving you a subtle warning. You stood at attention anyways, waiting for entry, and neither of them said a thing as the doors slid to an open. Upon stepping inside, there was an obviousness on how baron the deck was, the otherwise bumbling area had been nearly stripped of its crew; the drastic decrease in numbers made it all into an eerie still. The only persons present were those with the upmost importance; generals, admirals, save for two technicians. All the other scanners and lesser crewmen weren’t at their stations, like they had purposefully vacated the premises to save themselves from the revolt.  
The opening hissed shut once you had stepped entirely through, and a loud mixture of warping light and shattered glass clashed across the bridge, causing you to jump. When you turned to confront the noise, you were faced with an explosive blend of red and orange, splattered all across the mainframes. Flames flicked wildly within the singed strips of metal, and sparks flew desperately, helping illuminate Ren's violent figure from the treacherous black that consumed him. His large arms slashed murderously down onto the machines. The hue from his crossed saber psychotically danced across your features and you basked well into the entire sight.  
You tried with deep efforts to construct your brain into a narrow passage of thought, wanting not to instigate, and yet you had little control; the mind then slipped a rapid fire of insults.  
  
In the rancidity of his actions, he reminded you momentarily of a spoiled child, flailing into a violent tantrum against a nagging parental figure. From what you had gathered, he was unable to cope with his amateurish failures which resulted in this explosion of emotions. His frame disgusted you, with it’s wilding savagery and brief loss of authority; you knew then, that he was not nearly as powerful as everyone had laid claim. Apparently he could conquer all, yet he continuously failed to obtain the one thing that was needed the most. The idea that a grown man, choosing not to face his reality and repercussions, but instead the destruction of his surroundings, was humiliatingly deplorable. Everything about this was pathetic, almost triggering a form of sympathy within you for the necessity of a bravado. He was a child in a mask.  
  
Kylo’s shoulders twisted towards you, the tips of his shoes pointing at a side angle as his leathered hand shot upwards in your direction. An audible gasp spit from the depths of your throat as his invisible grip squeezed around your neck, your airways were near to being completely blocked. Your fingers raised desperately and hooked onto the collar of your uniform, and even through the shock of the attack, the antagonization did not let down; you were as much as a threat to him as he was to you in this moment. You could feel the tension within the air of the few people who were unfortunate enough to bare witness. You taunted him with the title of cowardice; he didn’t even have the decency, the determination, to barge towards you and take your throat within his actual hands and strangle you with personalized intent. He was no superior commander, he was a little bitch hiding behind the force.  
You felt the suffocation tighten, the tips of your boots now skimming the ground from the raise in his hold, and it caused puddles to cloud your vision. Although you wanted desperately for the badgering to continue, as it gave you the sensation of defense, blackened dots spotted your vision and your mind finally gave in. It quieted with your flickering consciousness and he released, allowing the body to finally collapse down; your mouth gasped from the painful lapse of air.

“Remove this scanner from the premises,” his voice scowled as he retracted his palm back to his side, “until I say, make sure she doesn’t come back”

Arms hooked under yours, lifting your limp body upwards and dragging you through the doors you had entered only minutes before. Your vision was hazed, unable to distinguish figures from your surroundings and your brain felt like it was swollen and throbbing.  
Once you regained a steady form of consciousness, you realized the two unknown officers had taken you to the medical wing and left you in the care of a nurse. She issued an immediate consultation after gathering enough intel, and gave you some time to regain some composure. Within several minutes, she had taken your vitals ensured that everything would be fine; Ren had apparently spared you from any deteriorating damage, the only physical qualm being the reddening that was at the circumference of your throat.

“I wonder what caused the commander to target you” 

You said nothing, allowing only for your sunken eyes to stare towards the floor. She had enunciated the last word, scanning your face with her blue eyes before unwrapping the tightened band from your bicep. 

“He’s taken his anger out on officers before, but never this unprompted”

She had said nothing more and you dawned on the recollection that there had been others to witness the ‘attack’. You had walked in, taken in the violence, and let shoot a barrage of insults that had caused such defamation. To everyone else, it was a random outburst of his temper; you were a poor and unsuspecting officer who came in at the wrong time. But to you, there was some offence.  
The nurse let you go after filing in the report and you quietly set back to your quarters, lying flat against the hard cot once inside. You could understand why Kylo had commanded your removal, wanting to cease the disrespect, but it still didn’t remove the bile that coated your mouth from the suspension. You allowed then your eyes to close, mind drifting after it stated one last truth; you had still meant every word against him.   
  
You awoke from a deepened slumber with aching exhaustion; your throat still felt sore and scratched. Stiffened fingers took hold of the edges of the data pad and lifted it to meet your eyes, the bright blue hue drawing out a wince. Many hours had passed since your exam, and you still had a few more left until the beginning of your shift. You assumed though, from the lack of notification issuing a callback, that you were still on a shortened leave and made the choice to bathe in the moment before preparing yourself for another session of sleep. There was hope that the summons would be issued within the next day, and after your second slip into slumber, you were roused again into consciousness by the alarm on the pad. You had awoken still to no notifications, and decided to let some time pass; surely after the ending of your first shift, you would be called in for the second and your pursuit in promotion could begin again.  
Yet, the second shift came and went, and beyond that period you decided that you had spent far too long lounging within your quarters for your own comfort; the resolve for your situation was to ready yourself for an appearance on the bridge. There was, once again, doubt that they would accept you back onto the center, but you'd hoped that your perseverance would come be seen as as determination in success. With a clean uniform, pressed and pristine and hugging your body, you stopped short of the two stormtroopers standing by and gave them a flash of identification.

“Your access has been temporarily denied” 

Your eyes flicked to the white helmet on the right, “what do you mean?” 

“Your authorization of entry has been removed, await in your quarters until further notice” 

It was the same trooper talking, their synthesized voice rendered unemotional. Even though Grant was issued to be at his post in that hour, you knew that it was not he who had spoken; there was something in his metallic drawl to where there was still some form of humanity in his tone, this trooper sounded like all the others. You felt a slight jump in your temper when the connection was made between this interaction and the sensation a child feels when they were being sent to their room. Your mouth opened to question further but snapped shut once the air was accompanied with that dreadful fog of unrest. The skin across your chest flurried and you turned to scowl at the incoming figure of your commander stomping towards you, 

“I thought I made the state of your removal obvious, or do you need a revision? 

Your body turned to face him entirely as he stopped just shy of 6 feet from you, his stupid fucking mask looking down upon your frame. 

“No revision is needed, I was removed yesterday-” 

“And that removal has continued into today. What is unclear?”

You had to physically stop yourself from releasing another affront of abuse, your fingers curling ever so slightly within themselves. You fucking hated the way he spoke to you. 

“There is no desire for confrontation, sir, I was just going to ask when I was allowed back to my assignment-”

“What was the statement I made after your discharge?” 

A sharpened breath incised down your throat and your lids closed slowly around your rolling eyes. _You hated being interrupted._ Especially by a self-righteous, condescending, arrogant ass who was doing this display of power in spite. 

"If I recall correctly," you could not help but to mimic his same condescending attitude, doing a terrible job in trying to hide it under your professionalism, " you'd said ‘until I say she can’, which I assume meant until further notice” 

“Good. Have you received that notice?” 

“No, sir” 

“Then I see no reason to grant you authorization back into the center” 

He rolled with your demeanor, bobbing around that little attitude like it was nonexistent. 

“Are you suspending me, commander?” 

“You state that as if I haven’t already” 

You felt yourself step towards him; your face flush with the burn that swarmed your entire body. Never had a superior worked you up into such a frenzy; the aggravation towards his entirety went against everything you had learned in the academy. It was like you had lost all recollection of the belief of doing as you were told and blindly following commands; your talent for minding your own business was eradicated when in his presence. Every single one of his responses was one of conceit, injected with an attempt to humiliate, and that was something you would not stand for. 

“This is an unwarranted suspension,” you thought back to the nurse who had made her comment, trying to use the leverage that, in everyone else’s mind, you were just as much of a victim as the poor supercomputer. “I did nothing-” 

“You know what you did” 

“All of my actions are justified, are yours?” 

“I suggest you stop talking before-” 

“Before _what_?” 

His hand shot up once more, elbow slightly bent to accommodate your close distance and you readied for that swept of pain from suffocation to burst through; in staring him down, you accepted this fate.  
Nothing came.  
He just stood there as your eyes bore into the black visor just as wildly as they had a month prior, but now you had the mental antagonization for him to continue on with his threat.

  
 _‘Go on, do it,’_ you thought as his leathered glove neared your throat. It hovered, like in warning of a physical embrace. _‘Go. Flex your muscles in front of the little crew. Show them how intimidating you can be’._ As each internal phrase echoed in its projection, your foot teetered in making the final step into his reach, connecting finally your throat to his palm. You wanted so much to call his bluff, your words offering as a pep talk to make the final jump. ‘ _Choke me, you fucking coward-do it. Prove that you're as scary as the galaxy says you are. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, SHOW ME- **SHOW ME NOW"**  
_ You could feel the heat from the material, your mind steamed like water from a boiling pot.  
  
‘ ** _FUCKING CHOKE ME! DO IT!_** ‘  
  
Kylo’s flexed hand curled within itself, letting out an audible grind of leather and lowered instead to his side. His mask was unmoving as he spoke, 

“You are restricted to your quarters until the end of your suspension,” he ascended quickly onto your form in one sweep, just like he had done back on his ship, “see to it that I don’t catch you wandering about, _or else_ ” 

He pushed past you and continued down the hall, your tongue was in between your teeth, stinging from your bite. You hadn't even made an effort to look back towards the stormtroopers, feeling a bit of shame from their witness to the outrage. Your path had briefly followed Rens in its direction, but angled down deeper into another swiveling hall; you were headed right back towards your chambers, just as was commanded. As you seemed to have no control over the enrage that swallowed your expression, it reflected into your movements and you slapped your hand against the entry pad. You seethed as it scanned your prints, and as soon as it granted access you stormed inside.  
Cramped fingers hooked around the glass that held your toothbrush and you hurled it to the opposite wall, causing shards to splinter across the small area. You treated a mug you had taken from the cafeteria, empty from the drunken caf, with the same respect, causing white ceramic to explode across your cot. Your fist slammed against the metal that shrouded your room once, twice, four times before you directed your anger towards the data pad that sat on a stand; you struck it repeatedly into the same wall before letting it fall to a clatter on the floor.  
Hot breaths wavered through, burning your lungs as you surveyed the carnage that had been deployed. Your eyes threatened to swell into a burning sob, but you refused to relent, not wanting to grant him the satisfaction of triggering any other type of emotion to escape. Instead, you let sink the enamel of your teeth into your bottom lip as you tried to regain the composure that you had so desperately lost. You were no better than him; he had caused you to go into a hysterical tantrum that led to pointless destruction, just like he went through the night before.  
  
You stood idol for some minutes and let the lashing waves ease into manageability before sinking to your knees and swiping up pieces of glass into a pile. The edges were bunt from the trauma of forced breakage, which enabled for easier clean up. You picked up your data pad, amazed that a blue hue still flickered, but stared at the cracked screen with disdain; using the voice command, you called for a cleanup droid and around seven minutes after your request, you heard the whirring beeps outside your door. Once you are granted entry to the mobile vacuum, it’s cubed head scanned the perimeter of your quarters and immediately surveyed the mess.  
It's clunky body rolled towards the broken data pad you had laid on the ground and it let loose a string of whooping disbelief, demanding to know what had happened to cause such a mess. 

“I fell.” 

You folded your arms and its buttons flashed in reds and blues, shouting at you with doubt as it began to suck up the mess. You fluffed the ceramic off your cot, ignoring further questioning from the little machine and just hoped it wouldn’t snitch. The last thing you needed was to be reprimanded for the destruction of imperial property.  
It wasn’t long after the droid left that you heard a quick succession of knocks, and when giving access, a flash of white whisked past you and cupped the side of their gloved hand against the scanning pad; the doors hissed shut and your guard was built right back up. 

“Hey, what’s your problem-”

“What the hell was that?” 

Grant’s metallic voice snapped at you and it was then that he sounded exactly like all the other galactic super troopers.

“What the hell was what?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he spoke your name in a warning and took off his helmet, throwing it onto your cot. He pointed an armored finger at you, “What the hell was with that... weird 'power play' between you and Ren?” 

You didn’t answer him, not really knowing what to say and you could see him visibly swallow as concern settled within the war lines on his face. He said your name again, low and full of caution, “tell me what the _fuck_ is going on”

“I don’t know! Look, I just-I guess I haven't been doing too well with others lately"

“You haven’t been 'doing well' with _Kylo-fucking-Ren_ ,” he hissed, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing!” you took offense to the last of his words, your voice now climbing up to match his tenor, “nothing is wrong with me, it’s him! He does this to me-he opens my brain and he sticks his fat fucking hands in and I can’t stop it,” you shook your head, ceasing your conversation for a second to scrunch your eyes closed. “I can’t stop insulting him-the storm vomits out, its like this trigger thats from his condescending disrespect. He thinks he’s better than me, like he’s bigger-”

“He IS bigger than you” 

“I know, but-” 

“-and you have _NO_ reason to be antagonizing and questioning him and-” 

“I know, Grant-just listen to me-” you held out your hands, eyes opened and watching as he sputtered.

“ _He could Kill You_ ”

“ ** _I Know, Grant!_** -” you took his face in between your palms and squeezed his cheeks slightly, giving a small shake of his head as your voice softened its tone, “I know” 

“If you know, then what happened?” his hands raised and let cuff his fingers around your wrists. 

“I told you, I... legitimately can’t help it. Something just happens to me when he’s around. I’m exposed. I feel a change in the air, and my mind becomes numb but clear and it's almost like he can see me without even being there.... I understand that this is hard to try and grasp, but there's no other way...” you tried to find the words to best describe the situation, but you drew a blank an sighed. "He triggers something _in_ me. It’s like he’s awoken a scary sensation that wants no good”

Grant gave you a disheartening moment of silence, and you knew that he didn't comprehend at the slightest what was being said. Although he had his moments, his title as a Stormtrooper bared some truth in the stereotype of them not being the sharpest; but because he wanted to be supportive, he didn’t invalidate your claim. He instead matched your own sigh, mumbling out the words  
you have a death wish” whilst shaking his head. 

  
The corner of his thin lips flickered up to a small smile as his furrowed brows released to dip down in sympathy. You let your hands fall to your sides.

A huff of air rushed through your nose, releasing your own soft laughter, “maybe” 

“No, you definitely have a death wish, man. You ever seen me talking to Ren that way? I,” he motioned towards himself with his fingers, “don’t want to die” 

“That’s because you’re still a coward” 

He buried a gloved hand through his light hair, hooking the other onto the small of his back, “wimping out is keeping me alive, and that's what I need from you”

“You need me to be afraid?”

“I need you to keep yourself alive” 

“And what for? Because you need someone to keep you company at lunch?” 

“ _No_ ,” he placed his hands on your shoulders and squeezing them tightly, “because you are the only person I have ever had that didn’t look at me like a string of numbers” 

You swallowed as he stared into you, realizing in that second the intensity of his words. You wondered if Grant harbored feelings for you that were more than friendship, and that reality struck another type of anxiety into your subconscious. Your hardened glare dissipated as you were rendered speechless, trying to read whatever message he was trying to convey through his kind eyes. 

You had never been one to access the ability to handle sincere moments; you had always felt awkward and unresponsive towards scenes of emotional vulnerability. To save yourself from answering in too serious a manner, you twisted the table towards humor and gave him an expression smug with mockery, “don’t try to play the softy card to get out of apologizing for bursting into my room"

He removed his hands from you and turned to grab his helmet, tucking it under his arm, "I apologize then, for everything,” a twinge of remorse caught you by surprise, making you wince; he had nothing to apologize for.

“Just,” his breath caught in the air for a singular moment, “please. Look out for yourself. It’s not good that the new girl is getting so much unwarranted, negative attention,” he turned to face you fully, “and I don’t want to lose the only friend I've ever made while stationed in this organization. Do you promise?” 

"Do I promise to what?” 

His mouth twisted back into its recognizable, full smile as he lifted his helmet above his head, “to keep your dirty thoughts to a minimum and behave?”

The jest triggered out from you a breathy snigger and he held out his pinky,

“Promise.” 

You hooked your own in between the divots of the white glove, giving a silent affirmation to his plea, and then unraveled your finger to knock the knuckle of your index against his chest plate, “now, back to your post before daddy realizes you’re gone” 

“Shut up” 

He left without another word, but you heard a guttural giggle from under his uniform just before the shut of the doors. The warm moment was over, and you were then left alone, in a disturbing quiet and hugged your arms to your body; the smile he had caused faltering as sat yourself on your cot. You had knowingly lied to Grant, promised him something you knew you couldn't keep. It was inevitable that another outburst would happen, but you could at least try.  
You would try for him.  
You could behave, right?

The call for the release of your suspension finally came just a few days after your initial breakdown. You readied yourself and sat in your chair on the lower section of the bridge, continuing to work as if nothing had happened. No one batted an eye towards you since the majority of them were not stationed for either outburst, but you did hear whispers about your backtalk from the next day. You attempted to bury your embarrassment into the coding of your computers.  
Reene had gone back to her watchful position over you and you guessed that was Ren’s way of reminding of your in-superiority of rank and field; you were still a rookie in this establishment and you could be immediately replaced. Her close eye hindered your confidence and sparked the same tunnel of self-doubt that wired through your mind when Al had brushed off your claims on V9. She was quiet, but made sure to keep by your side, and all you could do was let not your wounded pride show through the professional façade.  
That heavy stickiness entered the room again making the tips of your hands buzz and you blinked slow, knowing that was the sign for the eventual appearance of your commander.  
There was a slight let go of the grudge you harbored against him that manifested in the first hours of your suspension, coming to terms that you were in the partial wrong for insulting him so thoroughly. You still kept strong, though, in your opinion that you shouldn’t have been put on such a thorough punishment so early in your re-adjustment. He stalked through the doors, his cape catching at the crooks of his ankles and you kept your eyes forward on your screen. Your imagination threatened with the image of his mask staring down, and the lull of his voice speaking through in a crackle, but you pushed it aside with force. He stalked past and you kept silent, touching the tips of your fingers against each other in an effort to stifle the pinching. You would not think of Kylo Ren, just as much as he was not thinking of you. 


	5. Chapter 5

Your busy schedule made the days aboard the Finalizer feel like they passed in a blur, hindering your perception on how long it had been since the promotion. Although weeks had gone by since your encounter with the commander, the suspension was still fresh enough to blister out a bead of frustration, more so on the way he had handled the situation than on the actual act itself. From then on, it was unsurprising that there had been no more mishaps, as he gave you no further attention and you'd made sure to match the energy. Passing’s in the hall were kept straight faced and staring forward, ignoring his entitlement on the way to your destination and ignoring his presence when not directly called. That in itself manifested some confidence in your ability to keep the peace, the reminder of the promise you had made to Grant prevalent and purposefully kept at the forefront of your mind. Even if it was was true that Kylo had the talent to release the latch of mental chaos, in respects to your soldier and taking his words seriously, you behaved. You opted now to just sticking a figural tongue out in Ren's direction, instead of outwardly antagonizing like you had done more than twice before.

The second assignment issued to you after recollecting data was the interior investigation of a battle cruiser that had docked a few hours prior. It had carried back some promising cargo within order crates, as well as a small band of troopers and the general from a tropical planet sections away. The commander had taken his own ship, as he usually did, and arrived not long after the initial crew. Their mission was a semi success, according to the few details told to you by other members, saying that they'd brought back small batches of information that put them closer to their objective. It wasn't in the abundance that they had hoped, but you knew it was still some type of win as it was more information then the resistance had at this moment.  
As you rose from your seat and made way towards the doors, you heard the snap of Hux's call for your attention, using not your name, but your position within the fleet. You turned, standing still with your back erect while he came towards you, his thin arms tucked tightly behind. He already had a sour expression; the lines of distaste and malice were embedded onto his skin, like the ridge that lay between Grant’s brows. His entire body language screamed superiority, but there was an unease in his tone that said otherwise. You could sense the self-doubt in him, and that garnered pity.

  
“Aboard the cruiser are some items still yet to be recovered and placed into inventory, another officer will board and remove them while you are at your post. See to it you are not in their way”  
  
You gave that affirming nod that had been conditioned into you from your training, and answered with the cordial "yes, general" 

  
Unlike Kylo Ren, Hux’s demeanor did nothing to trigger attitude. You didn’t necessarily like him, but you did well in not letting your distaste shadow your professionalism when he spoke at you. He radiated in the energy of desire for power, and for some reason, inside, you felt like that was something he would never really achieve. His current section, meaning the position that he held now, was all that he would ever attain. There was an honesty in the opinion that you thought yourself better than him; not just as a person, but as a leader in control. You could be in command, just the same; you felt like you could take his place.  
His look upon your figure was one of suspicion, like he knew you had too much ambition, but had no outward proof to humble the judgement. Although you wanted to, you did not shift under his odd examination and stood placated and awaiting further instruction. He then opened his lips, speaking like a whip once more and angled his body away from you,

  
“Dismissed.”

  
With no delay, you turned and marched out of the center, waiting until your steps were the only echo against the chilled walls before allowing your face to contort in a quick mimic of his own. Your lips moved silently in mouthing his words, _‘dismissed’_ , god-what a fucking sell out. You entered the hangar that was busied with other bodies and caught your tongue in-between your teeth, sneering out one last jeer against the command. It was, admittedly, a childish gesture, but it was quick and you were thankful that your current, momentary playfulness made for a light hearted reaction towards an otherwise unnerving conversation.

The awe that you had harnessed in your first month aboard the Finalizer for all the varying types of ships had dissipated since your daily task had become overrun with the internal investigations of said machines. This cruiser’s exterior was no different from the others, sharpened with geometric designs that made for bulky, yet agile flying in a crisp black physic.  
You lifted your index and pushed it against the release latch, letting your ears marvel at the hiss of its lowering. Stepping aboard, you noted with slight surprise that this cruiser was composed of tunnels which weaved around its rectangular base, differing from the usual open floor plan majority of the first order ships had installed. You began your oversight immediately, knowing that such a large ship would take hours of detailed concentration, and it didn’t take long for you to become engrossed in your work.

The amount of time that had passed before that subliminal sensation came crawling was unclear; it was a soft, but direct indication at what, or who, was to come. You rubbed the nail of your middle finger against your thumb roughly, although it did nothing to stifle the gentle sting. Unprompted, your skin puckered in a chill as the static shot upwards from the base of your spine and wrung around your neck, breaking into flittering fragments across your chest. Your mind pulsated with a slight ding that aroused in your ears, and you closed your eyes for a good moment to intake the suffocation. This whole charade was like the universe’s most uncomfortable alarm, grinding against your muscles until he finally stepped over and into your personal bubble. There was more than a twinge of annoyance on that you had no idea why this was happening, nor did you have an understanding of how to power against it. You needed control, basked even in having the authority over situations, but this was beyond your grasp and that triggered irritation. This entire feeling played into your theory that he was behind it, undoubtful that he'd purposefully manipulate the mood, just to make his presence known. You had far too many questions, but had not the confidence yet to face him fully in gathering the answers; so now, you just simmered. In the effort to alleviate the mental tension, you joked inwardly that you had a sixth-sense for jackasses, but ridiculed yourself immediately for resorting to insults when he was so close by. You forced every thought back onto the pivotal conversation between you and your trooper, and focused in on the promise you had made; a pinky swear was akin to a blood oath, and you would do well to not falter in the affair. Whilst the ringing thrummed, you thought back to Grant’s last comment before he had left to his post, “keep your dirty thoughts to a minimum and behave”. The sentance echoed for a beat, before there was a momentary realization for the familiarity of those words; washing you over with warmth, you recalled your own comment from a month prior. He had remembered, from the very first conversational exchange between you two, the jab you had made against the possibility of the commanders mental trespass, and he said it back. There was never a moment where you had felt so listened to, and that in itself garnered a newfound confidence for the incoming threat that fogged across the bridge.   
He his was now inside, he was heard before he was seen,

  
“And what dirty thoughts do you possess?”

  
You were quick to respond, the slight embarrassment hidden well beneath your professional sarcasm, “only thought crime and disrespect, commander”

  
Kylo passed you to stand at a door beside your current working station, pushing in a string of numbers into the pad with the tip of his gloved finger. “I find it hard to believe you harness only two misconducts”

  
He immediately stepped through the doors when they brisked open, leaving you with furrowed brows and a big, fat ‘what the fuck is that supposed to mean’ scribbled across your expression.  
You did your best not to stick your head through the opening and question why he was even there, wanting so badly to ask about the other officer that was supposed to be aboard instead. You couldn’t help the same agitation from your previous confrontation outside the command center begin to fester forward again, allowing his attitude to crawl its way under your skin. There was a strain that manifested against your forehead, and you felt your eyes narrow while trying to decipher the statement; it wasn't often that you were rendered speechless by nonsense, and yet he had done it with no effort. Your lips parted just as he exited the room, following the figure as he made way towards the one across, and you noticed that he held nothing in his hands. 

“There was a cleanup droid that reported on an officer who vandalized imperial property, damaging their quarters with broken glass,” his back was turned to you as he punched in a new string of numbers. “Their data pad was shattered, useless... it was written as an accident. Want to know what I think?" 

"no-"

"It was intentional. Vandalism to imperial property is a serious offence." 

  
You felt your teeth grind, trying so hard to silence the arrogance, “you tell me this, why, commander?”

“To make conversation” he turned his head slightly, giving you a sideways glance through the mask while the doors hummed in their opening.

  
Kylo had a way of speaking in that low, venomous drag that excelled in promoting an immediate spike of fight. It was almost like he carefully curated his sentences, making them so condescendingly slow so that they slid across his tongue and snaked directly against your rebuttals. You took in a shaking breath and turned back to your work, trying with everything to gather your racing thoughts; your muscles contracting under his electricity. Your fingers dug themselves white against the edge of the data pad as your eyes bore into the blinking screen; even with serious intention they would not focus on the shapes that explained their importance. You wanted so much to just put your concentration onto your work, just like you did before, but now he was purposefully prodding at you, against you, all to "make conversation”. He exited the room and stood a little more than an arm’s length away, granting you the displeasure in feeling the pressure of his masked voice pierce in-between the blades of your shoulders,

“There's a new silence, you're not as talkative,” his comment seared into your skin, “what's changed”

“As you have already witnessed, commander, my personal way of conversing is not professional enough to-”

“It’s professional enough for the stormtrooper outside the center, as well as General Hux. Why not for me?”

  
Your tongue pressed into the roof of your mouth, holding back at his antagonization. You couldn’t fathom why he was speaking to you at all, thinking only that he must gain some type of internal gratification from the mockery.

“For lack of a better phrase; if I don't have anything nice to say, I’d rather just stay silent”

“Outwardly silent; instead you scream it in your head and hope no one can hear you,” there was a brief moment of pause, like he was building towards the beat, “you seem to forget that I can”

  
You now twisted to face his figure, a scornful glare targeted into his visor as your own form of poison drippled from your tongue, “I’m just trying to play nice”

“Is it hard to play nice with me?” he jeered, the bottom tip of his mask giving in to accommodate your new position.

  
Your lips curled against your teeth as your eyes narrowed, deciding against leaning closer into his form, “I don’t appreciate you probing my thoughts and always intruding into my inner monologue”

“I don’t, you project. I can hear and see everything you think…. Almost. Everything”

There was a new silence as you lapsed in his words. You did little to sympathize, not really caring what volume your “projections” were at since they were your own; you would do as you pleased. You would not grant him any release.

“I have ears, and with how loud you are I can do nothing but listen”

“That is not my problem, it’s yours. Your ability to hear is not of my concern.”

“It should be”

“I will not accommodate for your comfort, learn to shut me out if it’s such an inconvenience”

“It’s not much of an inconvenience for me as it is for you.”

“Really? It sure seems to bother you more than me”

His voice was in a rumble, attitude and annoyance obvious factors in his response, “You forget who is in control”

“Trust me, I need no reminder, he makes it very hard to forget”

Kylo closed the gap between you, causing your neck to strain painfully upwards as his cold mask angled to match the glare. You knew there was fire flickering wildly within your eyes, your face flushed pink with that same boiling rage he so effortlessly ignited.  
He spat his reply, his own anger daggered into the spaces between the words,  
  
“I should have you removed from your position for incompetence”

“ _Then why don’t you?_ ”

That caused a hush across the bridge, the only noise being your labored breaths and the murmur of the mainframe that you had previously coaxed to life. The tip of your tongue trailed along the back of your teeth, eager for his response so you could snap back in conversation.  
  
“You’re still upset about your impromptu suspension”  
  
Where the fuck did that come from?  
You took a step back as a harsh hiss of a laugh seethed from your throat, “I had no reason to be suspended”   
  
“You were being disrespectful, that was reason enough. You needed to be taught a lesson”  
  
“A Lesson’?”, the words felt thick in your throat, “who do you think you are, my father?”  
  
“No. You have more hatred for him than you do for me”  
  
Ren spoke like he had just uncovered this, like you could feel his eyes scanning your face behind the mask. Your mouth gaped; you felt violated, like all manner of privacy was shattered within the second that it was announced. Your shock caused a handicap for the resentment, momentarily ceasing all rapid fire as the only thing you could express was disbelief. In a child-like attempt to retaliate, you decided you wouldn’t comment, not wanting to grant him the satisfaction that he currently had the upper hand. Instead, as a way to placate the topic, you acted as if he hadn't spoken a word in the bit of uncovering and focused attention elsewhere.  
  
“Choking is not the best form of discipline”  
  
“For me it is, and it works”  
  
“Does it really?”  
  
“It drives everyone into submission,” his large shoulders pulled back as he hunched, lowering his head so that it leveled with yours, “everyone except you”. His own curiosity thundered from his chest, and you knew then that he wanted to understand more of why, maybe even more of you.  
For the third time in less than ten minutes, he had rendered you silent, your chest rising as you stared up and into his visor. You honestly didn't know how to respond back since it was true that his threats never triggered any form of submission into you; you wanted nothing more but to antagonize and bite back. You were not one to conform. It was obvious that his entire demeanor demanded respect, but that alone was the one detail that manifested a desire to completely dominate his presence.  
  
“I will not apologize for my actions, or decisions.”  
  
“I don’t expect you to,” there was a brief pause as your eyes scanned the mask, “you don’t seem like the apologetic type, commander.”  
  
He moved slowly upwards and back into his straight posture, his large figure then breaking from its stoic placement and turning towards the entrance of the ship.  
  
“Finish up, you’ve wasted enough time.”  
  
With the end of his sentence, Kylo stalked out of the shuttle and left you alone in the murmuring cruiser. Your fingers eased around the edges of the pad and you gazed down, that angelic blue hue illuminating your features. You were grateful that this occurrence was physically nonviolent, but you could not help but question what the entire meaning was for it to happen at all. You’d noticed once more that he walked off the ship with nothing in hand still, leaving the rooms to the shuttle open and exposed. Electricity still buzzed throughout your body, even though the odd sensations he always brought with him had vanished once he was off site. Would you tell Grant about this entire encounter? Possibly. You needed someone to talk to about it, you needed another voice.  
  
Time once again slipped through your grip once you had finally been able to encompass your attention into work, disregarding instances of the conversation sneaking its way through as an attempt to distract. You heard pittering steps along the interior of the cruiser and your head shot up, peeking around a corner to view a fellow navy suited officer, a little higher in rank, standing and staring to the ajar rooms.  
  
“Why is this room open? Who gave you authorization?”  
  
Their tone was mean and accusatory, and your face contorted with hostility, “no one, I don’t have any authorization”  
  
“Then why are they open?”  
  
“Because Ren came in and opened them up”  
  
The officer stared at you with furrowed brows, “when?”  
  
“Earlier, I’m not exactly sure. I lost track of time”  
  
“Did he take anything with him?”  
  
“No, I don’t know why he was here-he didn’t tell me what he was looking for”  
  
“So, he was just... 'looking for something'?”  
  
You were put on automatic edge at his doubt, not understanding exactly what his trepidations were about, "I don’t know. He just came in, opened the doors and then left. That’s all."  
  
The officer scanned your face just as Hux did earlier before, “did he say anything to you?”  
  
"No sir, he did not," you pointed your index to the position you were standing in and tried, begrudgingly, to not match his attitude in your response, "I'm afraid I can't help you with anymore answers, can I get back to work?"   
  
A quick, judgmental hum locked into his thick throat, and he turned his first his pudged face, then body to march into one of the chambers. You tucked yourself back around and continued, wondering if there was a lapse in the universe that waved through to Finalizer which rendered everyone into a moody little bitch. After your overview, when your break finally started, you had to find Grant and see if it was affecting him too.   
You finished the investigation on the battle cruiser well after the navel officer had left with the shipment, and set out to find your stormtrooper; you hoped now more than ever that his break was scheduled on time with yours, as it usually was. You almost made it to the doors of the command center before you were stopped by a familiar voice, muffled with authority under a helmet, calling your name. You turned and faced the white suited soldier bounding towards you,  
  
“I was just looking for you,”  
  
“Me too, are you on break?” you asked eagerly, resisting to grab his hand like a little kid would and pull him towards the cafeteria.  
  
“Yeah, just got on. You-”  
  
Grant was interrupted by the accented voice of the general. A cold shiver beaded against your bones at the realization that he had called your name, your full name, and you turned to face him, seeing the same pinched face of the officer from the cruiser at his side.  
  
“I need to have a word,” he turned, motioning then wordlessly down a hall with the little technician at his heels. You knew then that your update to Grant would have to wait, and you followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the formatting keeps fluctuating, I have never posted a fic before so I'm trying to figure it all out.


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